


the sky has finally opened

by SuburbanSun



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Maturity, Forrest is a good guy, He's also not really a character in this story, M/M, Michael Guerin Deserves Nice Things, Michael Guerin Loves Alex Manes, Post-Season 2, Relationship Advice, mild jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24997966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: Michael needs a friend. Turns out, he’s got several, and they help him see what’s right in front of his face.akafive times Michael referred to Forrest by the wrong horticultural name (and one time he didn’t)
Relationships: Isabel Evans & Michael Guerin, Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin & Kyle Valenti, Michael Guerin & Liz Ortecho, Michael Guerin & Rosa Ortecho, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 54
Kudos: 287





	the sky has finally opened

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from 'Rainbow' by Kacey Musgraves.

**1**

Michael picked at the label on his beer bottle as he waited for Isobel to show up. He’d chosen a table tucked near the back of the Pony, figuring he’d give Maria some space, even though she had made it clear he was still welcome anytime. 

From his vantage point, he could see everything: Max slinging drinks behind the bar. The usual townies hustling tourists at pool. Alex perched on a barstool, smiling at the man beside him. 

“Who pissed in _your_ acetone?” Isobel asked, sliding into the booth across from him with one impeccable eyebrow raised. “You look like someone just told you there’s a global shortage of oversized belt buckles.”

“Ha ha. Your standup routine’s really improving, Iz. You should go on tour,” Michael replied, taking a long slug of his beer. 

She smiled smugly. “Funny, beautiful. The whole package, some might say.”

“Some might say,” he said, but he couldn’t fight a fond grin. She preened, then swiveled in her seat to get a look at what he’d been staring at. 

“So what’re you— ah. I see.” 

Michael frowned. “You see?” 

When she turned back to face him, there was undisguised pity on her face. It made Michael’s insides constrict. 

“It’s okay to feel jealous, Michael.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Wait, you think I’m jealous of _Woods_ over there?” 

Isobel pinned him with a look. “Forrest, you mean?” 

“Whatever. Yeah. I’m not _jealous_ , Iz. I told you, it’s not our time.” 

“I know.” She reached over and stilled his hand, stopping him from shredding the label on his bottle even further. “And I think that’s very mature.”

Michael scoffed, but set his beer down on one of the Pony’s flimsy cardboard coasters anyway. 

“I mean it, Michael.” Isobel’s gaze was sincere. “But you can make a mature choice and still feel jealous at the same time.” 

He opened his mouth to argue, but then out of the corner of his eye he spotted Alex, head thrown back in laughter, presumably at something Forrest had said. His eyes crinkled at the corners in a way Michael had seen before, but not in a long, long time. His words died on his lips as he sagged back in the booth. 

“Tell you what,” Isobel said, sparing one more glance at Alex and Forrest. “You know I always said this place is as dirty as a Republican Senator’s list of campaign contributions. Let’s get out of here.” She tilted her head to the side. “Anyway, I heard it’s Glitter Night at Planet 7…” 

The prospect of washing glitter out of his curls for the next week was fairly unappealing to Michael, but the prospect of sticking around to watch Alex fall head over heels for another guy sounded even worse. He tossed back the rest of his beer and set it on the table with a satisfying thud, then gestured for Isobel to exit the booth. 

“Glitter it is. Lead the way.” 

**2**

“You serious about this, man?”

Max glared at him, arms crossed over his chest. “What, you think I’m being ridiculous?”

Michael chuckled. “Well… yeah, a little!” Max huffed, and Michael continued, “I mean, you were practically the guy’s son-in-law. Sure, you’re sad about Liz—” Max narrowed his eyes. “As you have every right to be! But I think you can handle going into the Crashdown to pick up a burger.” 

“Of course I can—” Max started, then lowered his voice. “Of course I can _h_ _andle_ it. But Arturo had both daughters living under his roof two weeks ago, and now he doesn’t have either. I don’t want to see the look in his eyes… to know he blames me for Liz leaving.” 

“I’m sure he doesn’t _blame_ you,” Michael said, though he realized he really had no idea.

“Just take the money and don’t make this a thing,” Max pleaded, holding out a $20 bill. 

Michael took it, shaking his head. “Okay, okay. Burger, fries and a shake comin’ right up.” 

Once inside, he headed for the counter, where Arturo was talking animatedly with a group of teenagers. As Michael waited his turn, he looked around the restaurant. It did feel weird to know he wouldn’t see Liz’s antennae bouncing behind the counter, or Rosa emerging from the kitchen with a scowl. As he scanned his surroundings, his gaze landed on a familiar face in a booth over by the window, and his heart skittered in his chest. 

Like a magnet, Alex looked up in that moment, his eyes widening just a little when they met Michael’s. The corners of his mouth quirked up into a smile.

Michael licked his lips, glancing at the empty side of the booth across from Alex as he considered his next move. Swallowing, he shifted his weight to head for the row of booths by the window, when:

“Michael? Do you know what you’d like to order?” 

As he turned to face Arturo, he heard the bell above the Crashdown’s door chime, and he knew who it would be without even having to look. Sure enough, after placing Max’s order (plus a cheeseburger for his troubles), he saw a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. 

“You want something to drink while you wait?” Arturo asked, tucking his order pad back in the pocket of his apron. 

With a quick glance over to Alex’s booth, Michael shook his head. “Nah, I think I’ll wait just outside, if that’s okay.” 

“Suit yourself,” Arturo said. “It’ll be ready in about 10 minutes.”

Michael nodded and made for the door, his head down. When he got outside, Max was leaning back against the wall of the Crashdown, the sole of one boot propped up on the brick. He looked down at Michael’s empty hands and cocked his head to the side.

“Relax, it’ll be ready in a few minutes. I just figured I’d wait out here with you.” 

Max sighed. “Michael, I don’t _need_ a babysitter; I’m _fine_.” 

“Believe it or not, the Babysitter’s Club rejected my application.” He tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans and leaned back against the wall next to Max. “Besides, ever considered there’re people in this town I might want to avoid, too?”

Max frowned, then turned to peek in the window. When he turned back around, he looked confused. 

“Since when are you avoiding Alex?” 

“I’m _not_ avoiding Alex.” 

“And yet…here we are, hiding outside the Crashdown while we wait for our food.” 

“Okay, maybe I am avoiding Alex… but only when he’s with _Branch_ over there.” 

Max looked inside again. “The guy with the blue hair?” He turned back to Michael, his brow furrowed. “His name is _Branch_?” 

Michael blinked incredulously at Max. He was lucky he was so tall. “ _No_ , Max, his name isn’t _actually Branch_.” 

“So…his actual name is...” 

“It doesn’t matter what his name _actually_ is,” Michael said, huffing out a breath and looking down at the sidewalk. “Because I don’t _actually_ have any right to get upset. Or— or—”

“Jealous?”

Michael frowned. He wanted to argue that that’s not what he was feeling, but why else did he feel sick to his stomach anytime he saw the two of them together? He shrugged resignedly, shaking his head. “Yeah.” 

Max didn’t say anything, just leaned back against the brick, shoulder to shoulder with Michael. After a moment, he laughed. 

“What?” Michael asked. 

“Nothing. Just… we’re a couple of sad sacks, aren’t we?” 

Michael thought about it, about how Max had thoroughly screwed things up with the love of his life to the point that he was afraid to go inside his favorite diner. About how Michael had spent months pretending he didn’t want something only to realize too late that it was _all_ he wanted. He had to laugh, too.

“The saddest of sacks.” 

The door trilled, and one of the new waiters Arturo had hired to fill in for Liz and Rosa appeared with a bag full of food and a to-go milkshake, handing it to Michael and disappearing inside. He dug out his burger, then held the bag and the shake out to Max. 

“You wanna go back and eat at my place? I’ve got beer, whiskey…” 

Michael regarded him with suspicion. “You’re not gonna force me to write poetry about my feelings or anything, are you?”

Max held up a hand innocently. “Hey, any and all sonnets are entirely voluntary.” 

With one last glance through the window of the Crashdown, Michael nodded, then headed for his truck. If he was determined to be a sad sack for the night, then at least he’d be in good company.

**3**

“What’s so important that you called me six times in 20 minutes?” Michael’s tone was clipped, his arms crossed as he aimed his words at the speaker of the phone propped on his workbench. 

“Hello to you too, Mikey.”

“Yeah, pardon me if I don’t want to chit chat with you right now, Liz.” He picked up a pencil and scratched out a few notes on the papers in front of him. “What do you want?” 

She didn’t speak for a long moment, and for a second he thought maybe she’d hung up. “Look— I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be—”

“Yeah, we do.” 

“I was just hoping you could send me copies of some of the files I left backups of in your bunker. Seeing as my originals all got sort of…”

“Flambéed? Yeah. I’m pretty mad at him about that, too.” Liz went silent again, and Michael sighed. “Okay, fine. Email, or you need hard copies?” 

“Hard copies would be great.” There was a note of relief in her voice, like she’d thought maybe he wouldn’t be willing to do it. “I’ll text you my new address”

“Got it.” 

After a pause, she cleared her throat. “So, how is… everyone?” 

Michael tucked the pencil behind his ear and turned around so he could lean back against the table, holding the phone in one hand. “Max is doing okay. He’s at risk of running through his collection of fatalistic poetry, but otherwise he’s still standing.”

“Good, that’s good,” she said, and he could hear the soft smile in her voice. “And the rest of you?” 

He shrugged. “You know. Another day, another weird-ass alien discovery. But we’re handling it.” He puffed out a breath. “I’m sure you’ve talked to Rosa and your dad. Maria seems good, far as I can tell. We haven’t really talked much. Giving each other space.”

“Yeah, I heard. We’ve been texting. I promised her I’ll start an Instagram this time.” She paused again. “And… how’s Alex?” 

Michael let his head fall back and his eyes slip shut before answering. “Alex is…good. He’s great, actually. His dad’s out of the way for good, he’s writing music again, he’s dating a guy named _Twig_. He’s… he’s great.” 

“Twig? You mean Forrest?”

“Whatever,” Michael grumbled, turning to go back to his notes. “Close enough.”

Liz clucked her tongue over the phone, and he could just picture her face, all sympathetic and sad against a sunny California sky. “You know, when I talked to Alex yesterday, he said they were just hanging out. Nothing serious. His words, not mine.”

Michael paused his pencil mid-letter, his eyebrows raised. “You talked to him yesterday? So why’d you ask me how he’s doing?” 

“I just wanted to see what you’d say. Get your unique perspective on the matter.”

He groaned. “No meddling across state lines, Liz.” 

“What? I’m not!” Her tone was innocent, but he knew better. “I just… miss you, all of you. That’s all. I’m glad I left but I’m also not, you know?”

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, nodding. “We miss you too.” Neither of them said anything for a beat, and then Michael started making notations again. “So… what’s the Pacific Ocean like?” 

“Mikey,” she said, a grin in her voice. “You’d love it.” 

**4**

“You brought Guerin? You better have brought me extra pan dulces this time.”

Isobel smirked at Rosa, glancing over at Michael. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, feeling a little uncomfortable. 

“Oh, this tagalong? Don’t mind him. I just thought it might do him some good to get out of Roswell for the day.”

Rosa snorted. “I know how _that_ goes. Well, welcome to my humble yet temporary abode,” she said, sweeping an arm around at her surroundings. They’d found her in her room, a neat single with the innocuous decor of a hotel room. Rosa followed Michael’s gaze to the framed piece of blandly abstract art on the wall. “Yeah, it blows, right? I offered to paint a mural on the wall if they’d knock $100 off the bill, but they said no.” 

“You’d think a rehab center would wanna invest in some art that didn’t drive people to hit the sauce,” he said. Isobel elbowed him with a glare, but Rosa just laughed. 

“Alright. He can stay.” 

The next hour went by faster than Michael had expected. It was kind of fun, shooting the shit with Rosa, filling her in on the Roswell gossip she was missing, sitting back and watching her trade barbs with Isobel. He still felt a little surprised that they’d bonded as much as they had, but something about it worked.

“Okay— I need to hit the ladies’ before we get out of here. We’re going to stop by that hole-in-the-wall place with the good barbacoa on our way back,” Isobel told Rosa as she stood up. 

“Ugh, jealous! You better bring me tacos next time.” 

“So demanding, Ortecho,” Isobel scolded with a smile on her face, before disappearing into the hallway, leaving Michael and Rosa alone.

“You can come back too if you make her bring me tacos,” Rosa said. She sat cross-legged on the bed, across from Michael’s spot on the bench that lined the wall. 

“How much longer ‘til they let you out?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“They’re not keeping me here. I’m choosing to be here. So, awhile longer, I guess. ‘Til I get better.” 

Michael let out a low whistle. “Very mature of you.” 

She wrinkled her nose. “Shut up.” 

“I mean it!” He laughed, holding up his hands innocently. “Seems like you’re doing really good in here. It’s nice to see.” He paused. “I know Liz and Arturo are proud.” 

Rosa looked down, picking at a loose thread on the duvet in front of her. “Yeah. Me too. I guess.” She shook her head. “Enough about me, what’s your deal? You and Alex?” 

Michael froze, his eyes widening. “What about me and Alex?”

“I mean, you built a bomb to save his life, pendejo. And Isobel filled me in on her last visit— he wrote you a song? Seriously?” When Michael hesitated, she slapped the palms of both hands against the bed impatiently. “C’mon, Guerin, they don’t even let us have Netflix in here. I crave drama. Spill.” 

It was Michael’s turn to pick at the upholstery on the bench beside him. “Not a lot to spill. If she told you all that, the traitor, then I’m sure she told you that it’s not the right time for us. I just got out of something with Maria, and… and now Alex is hanging out with _Stem_ or whoever. Which… which is a good thing. It’s good for him. He’s good for him.” 

Rosa leaned forward, craning her neck until she could meet Michael’s eyes. “And you’re not?” 

Michael shrugged, finally looking back up. “Haven’t been in the past.”

“Oh, I get it. You _are_ an idiot.” 

He scowled. “What makes you say that? Not saying it’s not true, but…”

Rosa just shook her head incredulously. “Guerin… take it from a teenage drug addict who used to be _dead_. Who cares about the past? If you let yourself be defined by what you _used_ to be like, or how things _used_ to be between the two of you… if you don’t believe people can change and get better and _be_ better for each other and be better for themselves…” She looked back down at that loose thread. “Then I don’t know, why am I even in here, ya know?” 

Michael blinked at her, swallowing thickly. One corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “That’s a really hopeful way of looking at it.”

She looked back up at him, and he could see the vulnerability in her eyes. She looked fragile and strong at the same time. After a moment, she smirked. “Well, I’m a hopeful kinda gal. These days, at least.” 

His smile grew. “You’re an inspiration, Ortecho.” 

Rosa groaned. “Ugh, shut up.” 

They both laughed, and Isobel came back in, glancing back and forth between the two of them but ultimately deciding not to question it. They said their goodbyes, and Isobel led the way out of the room. 

“Guerin, wait,” Rosa called out, and he turned in the doorway. She wrinkled her nose. “Is the dude’s name really _Stem_?” 

  
  


**5**

“Couldn’t we have just gotten drinks at the Pony? I get a discount now,” Max grumbled. 

Isobel rolled her eyes and linked her arm through the crook of his elbow, doing the same to Michael on her other side. “You can’t just spend all your time at your place of business. Did you ever hang out at the Sheriff’s department on your days off?”

“Of course not.”

“My point exactly.” She pulled them through the parking lot to the entrance of Planet 7 and winked at the bouncer. “They’re with me.” 

“What, no velvet rope?” Michael asked as they slipped through the door into the dim building. 

“Only on Bondage Night,” Isobel quipped. “Look, an empty table over by the bar!”

Minutes later, Michael was seated at a high-top guarding Isobel’s purse while she dragged a reluctant Max onto the dance floor. He sipped his beer and watched them with an amused smile. Maybe getting Max out of his comfort zone wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Guerin,” came a voice from over his shoulder. “Haven’t seen you here before. You come with Isobel?”

Michael blinked in surprise, turning around. “I’d ask if you come here often, but I think the feather boa answers my question.”

Kyle just shrugged, unfazed. “You get pulled on stage for Taylor Swift karaoke _one_ time and suddenly you’re a regular.” He stepped past the table to lean against the bar, ordering a beer, then turned back to face Michael. “You just missed Alex.” 

Michael sat a little straighter on his stool, leaning his elbows on the table. “Alex was here?” 

“Yeah, they just left a few minutes ago. I think they were going to meet some of Alex’s Air Force buddies at the Pony but stopped by to have a drink with me first.” 

_They_. Michael grimaced, taking a long sip of his beer. “So he’s introducing his buddies to _Leaf_ , huh?”

Brows knitted in confusion, Kyle frowned. “Leaf?” Off Michael’s sullen glare, he nodded knowingly. “Ah. Not a fan of Forrest, I take it?”

Michael shrugged. “I got nothing against the guy.” 

“So that’s why you’re sitting alone in Roswell’s finest and only queer bar, pouting in the corner all by yourself?” Kyle perched on one of the stools across the table from Michael. 

“Sure, Valenti, pull up a chair, join me,” Michael deadpanned. “You know, it’s a little tough to take you seriously with hot pink feathers in your hair.” 

Kyle reached a hand up to his hair, frowning until he’d found the stray feather and plucked it out. “It’s a little tough to take you seriously when you say you have nothing against Forrest, so we’re even.” 

Michael huffed out a breath. “I mean it. He seems like a good guy. Hell, I met him before Alex ever did, doing research at the library. The dude is smart. Interesting.” 

“But?” 

“No buts.” Michael twisted the bottle in his hand. “Alex deserves to be with a good guy.”

Kyle heaved a sigh, then took a gulp of his beer. “Can’t believe I’m about to say this,” he muttered. “But… you’re a good guy, too, Guerin.”

Michael’s instinct was to scoff, to tell Kyle to fuck off. He bit it back and took a long breath before meeting his eyes. “Yeah, maybe so. And someday, maybe it’ll be the right time for us, and then—”

“Bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?”

Kyle narrowed his eyes. “We’re not guaranteed any someday maybes. None of us. Especially not you three,” he nodded toward Isobel and Max, laughing on the dance floor, “who seem hellbent on giving me a trial-by-fire lesson in life-saving alien medicine.” 

“That’s not—”

“Even if you weren’t the danger-magnets that you are… people get sick, and sometimes they die. There are no guarantees. And yeah, sue me, I want my best friend to be happy. Now, not someday eventually.” 

Michael swallowed down a lump in his throat. He wanted Alex to be happy, too. Of course he did. Wasn’t that the whole point? “So what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying…” Kyle sighed. “I’m saying don’t wait too long to tell the people you care about how you feel about them. If you’re waiting for the right time, or the perfect moment, then it might never come.” 

They sipped their beers in relative silence for a moment, as Michael chewed on the thought. He wanted to ask Kyle for more— to ask if he knew how serious Alex and Forrest were, to ask if he thought he actually had a chance. But Kyle looked lost in thought, and when he drained his beer and stood up, Michael kept his questions to himself.

“I think I’m gonna head over to the hospital, actually. You need this more than I do,” he said, unwrapping the pink boa from his neck and placing it across Michael’s shoulders. He pulled a few bills out of his wallet and put them on the table, then pointed at Michael. “Just— there is no right time. Don’t be an idiot.” 

Michael chuckled ruefully. “You sound like Rosa.” 

That made Kyle smile, and as he retreated out of the bar, Michael realized that to his surprise, he was smiling, too. 

**5+1**

Michael stood nervously on the stoop of Alex’s house, hat in hand, waiting to get up the courage to knock. He wasn’t even sure if he should be there. What if Alex wasn’t alone? What if he was, but he didn’t want to see Michael? Maybe he should have texted first.

Just then, the door opened, and an unimpressed Alex Manes stood on the other side. 

“How’d you—”

Alex looked up, and Michael followed his gaze to the security camera mounted prominently near the entryway. “You tripped my proximity alarm twenty minutes ago. Figured you’d knock eventually, but I got tired of waiting.” 

“Ah,” Michael breathed, and wasn’t that their relationship in a nutshell, anyway? Someone was always waiting for someone else to be ready. But maybe Kyle had been right the night before. No right time, no guarantees. He let out a slow exhale. “Can I come in?”

Alex opened the door wider and stepped out of the way, gesturing for Michael to head for the living room. He glanced around as he went, half-expecting to see someone else jump out from the shadows.

“Want something to drink?” 

“Sure.” Michael watched as Alex moved into the kitchen and rummaged in the fridge. “Sorry, I should have asked— is this a good time?” 

Alex handed Michael an open beer, then sat and uncapped his own. “It’s as good a time as any. I was just messing around on my keyboard.” 

Michael eyed the instrument across the room. “Writing something new?” 

Alex shrugged. “Trying to. It’s slow going, but I think it’ll be worth it.” 

Michael hummed in response, and took a sip of his beer. After getting home from Planet 7, he’d spent half the night wide awake in bed, wondering if Kyle was right, if Rosa was right, if Isobel was right. Then, once he conceded that they probably were, wondering what the hell he was going to say to Alex. If Alex would even want to hear it. He’d never quite figured it out.

“I wasn’t sure if, ah. If you’d be out with Forrest, or if he’d be over here, or something.” 

Alex raised an eyebrow. “And you came over anyway.” 

“I did.” Michael sighed. “Look, Alex— I know you’re with Forrest, and—”

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“I’m not _with_ anyone,” Alex said, leaning back in his chair. “We’ve been hanging out these past couple of months, and it’s been good. Fun. But that’s all it is— fun.” 

Michael sat back and took him in, really looked at him— his jeans and casual T-shirt look, his tousled hair, the way he sat in his chair. Everything about him screamed _relaxed_ in a way he hadn’t seemed in years. It was a nice sight to see.

“Good. That’s good. I’m glad. I want you to have fun. I want you to be _happy_.” 

Alex nodded slowly. “You didn’t come out here on a Sunday afternoon to talk about Forrest, though.”

“Only tangentially, I guess.” Michael took another big sip of his beer. “You’re right. I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about us. If you’re open to it.” 

“I’m open,” Alex murmured, his thumb worrying at the edge of the label on his beer bottle. Michael let out a breath. 

“Okay. Okay, good. Because I know that there’s always been something in our way… whether it was your dad, or the Air Force, or you, or me. And I know I said I didn’t think we were good for each other. But I think I was wrong.” He leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, and stared at Alex. Alex held his gaze without looking away. 

“Wrong about what?”

“About all of it.” Michael chuckled. “I got some good advice from a few friends recently. And it made me realize that maybe it _can_ be our time. Maybe we _can_ be good for each other. Maybe we can make _each other_ happy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he noticed that Alex’s eyes were misty. He was certain his own were, too. “I’m ready, Alex,” he added, his voice low. “If you are.” 

“Michael… I’m ready, too,” Alex said quietly, and in a heartbeat, Michael had surged forward to tug Alex into a kiss, tinged with longing and relief and _home_. Alex slid one hand into Michael’s curls and held him in place, and Michael let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. His heart swelled with so much hope he thought it might crack his chest in two. 

He pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead on Alex’s, still holding on tight, just breathing together. 

After a moment, he felt Alex’s fingers moving at the nape of his neck. Alex pulled back from him and tilted his head to the side, looking at something he’d found.

“Is this a pink feather?”

Michael just laughed, and pulled him in for another kiss, slow and steady and full of so many promises. 

The time finally felt right.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to hang out on tumblr? I'm [unbreakablejemmasimmons](https://unbreakablejemmasimmons.tumblr.com/) over there!


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